“Happy to help.” I gave them a small smile, a sudden pang of envy for their connection striking me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d shared that kind of happiness with someone else—if ever.
“Let us know if you need anything, Teddy,” Jack called as I headed out the door. “We’re always here for you.”
“Thanks,” I replied softly, wondering if I came across to them as some lonely, pathetic old man. There was something in Emma’s soft expression I wasn’t fully comfortable with.
After picking up my truck, I wove my way around town doing more of the jobs people didn’t want to take care of themselves. For a single mom who’d just moved into the apartments on the west side, I hung a TV and secured shelving to the walls so her kids wouldn’t hurt themselves. At the little year-round market/consignment shop, I built new display stands and installed dividers between the booths. None of the jobs were difficult, just time consuming.
My final stop was Mrs. Jenkins’s house. The slats she’d ordered to fix part of the privacy fence at the back of her property had come in, and I’d offered to deliver them myself when I overheard Marty at the hardware store tell her he couldn’t drop them off until the end of the week.
In exchange, she’d agreed to bake me one of her famous strawberry rhubarb pies. If not for the fact pie didn’t pay the bills, I’d have happily worked for the church ladies who were constantly baking. I swore there was some sort of witchcraft involved in their recipes.
As I pulled up to her home, I saw her waiting on the porch, her eyes lighting up as I unloaded the pressure-treated lumber from my truck. Like me, she didn’t fit the mold of what people expected. Where most of the women in town acted as if every day was Sunday with their coordinated outfits and perfectly styled hair, Mrs. Jenkins preferred wearing overalls and her late husband’s button-up shirts.
I think her easy-going, fiercely independent nature was part of why I went out of my way to help her whenever I could. Well, that and pie.
“You’re a lifesaver, Teddy,” she said, her gratitude unmistakable. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Jenkins,” I deflected, an odd mix of fulfillment and discomfort stirring within me. “I’m happy to help.”
As I set to work on her fence, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard, I couldn’t help but think about the connections I had in Harmony Grove. Though I often felt alone, the love and support of this close-knit community were never far from reach.
With each nail I hammered and each plank I secured, I realized that my own happiness wasn’t as elusive as it seemed. It was rooted in the kindness and camaraderie of the people around me, in the satisfaction of a job well done, and in the hope that one day, I might find someone who truly understood and cherished me for who I was.
Mrs. Jenkins came out to supervise my work, a tall glass of lemonade in hand. My mouth puckered and my face twisted at the first sip. She definitely hadn’t gone overboard on the sugar. And yet, I drank every drop not wanting to upset her.
“I would have taken care of this myself, you know,” she assured me. I was absolutely certain she would have, but she shouldn’t have to. If her own kids couldn’t be bothered to come by and help her out despite living one town over, I’d keep on swinging by to see what needed to be done. She pulled a pair of gardening gloves out of the pocket of the overalls that nearly drowned her. “It’s good to work with your hands. Keeps the soul young.”
“I have no doubt you’re right.” She steadied the next plank while I secured it. As it turned out, having someone to chat with was just what I needed to keep my thoughts from spiraling. Knowing Mrs. Jenkins, she’d sensed my upcoming pity party and was trying to keep it away.
With a final nod of approval at my handiwork, I packed up my tools and headed back to the truck, the last rays of sunlight fading behind me. I made a left turn at the center of town rather than a right.
I found myself back at the diner despite telling myself earlier that I’d swing by the grocery store and find something to cook. Eating out was expensive, even at the diner. Loretta greeted me with a slightly weary smile. Sometimes, I wondered if she slept on a cot in the back room. She was always here.
“Long day?” she asked, pouring me a cup of coffee and setting it down before me.
“Feels like the little jobs never end.” I sighed, sipping the hot liquid. Loretta had worked at the diner since my teenage years, and we’d developed a special bond. She always seemed to know what I needed, even if I didn’t. “But I shouldn’t complain. Work means I can pay the bills.”
“What’s on your mind?” she inquired, leaning forward with her hands folded. “You’re not the usually broody type. And when you are, you hibernate rather than being seen in public.”
I shrugged, thinking back to Emma and Jack. The moms at the park. And even Mrs. Jenkins, who filled the silence this afternoon with stories about Mr. Jenkins. She often explained that he drove her crazy but she wouldn’t have it any other way. It all left me wondering why I was so committed to staying single.
“Life,” I replied after a few moments. “Love. All that fun bullshit.”
Loretta smiled knowingly, understanding my unspoken words. “Ah, love,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling with years of wisdom and experience. “The ultimate mindfuck.”
I barked out a laugh at her frankness. Loretta settled on the chair across from mine, placing the mostly-empty coffee pot at the edge of the table. Maybe this was exactly what I needed tonight. Loretta had been doing her job long enough she knew exactly how long to let someone vent before pulling them out of it.
Apparently, tonight she wasn’t going to let me sulk at all. “You know, eventually you’ll realize what you and Patrick had wasn’t the type of love that burns hot and heavy. It was a deep friendship, and maybe you’ll find your way back to one another.”
“Doubtful,” I scoffed. “He’s happy up in Pineville. I haven’t even seen him around town since the day we signed our divorce papers.”
“Yeah, and that’s on him. He should get his ass back here for the holidays at least.” Loretta shook her head. “That boy’s going through a mid-life crisis if I’ve ever seen one. He’s so damned determined to prove he can have a life outside Harmony Grove but I’m not sure he could tell you who he needs to prove it to.”
“Maybe you’re right.” One of the other waitresses brought my dinner. She bent down to say something to Loretta before taking the coffee pot and walking away. “Either way, forget I said anything. It’s just been one of those days.”
“Okay, but only if you stop beating yourself up.” Loretta stood, smoothing the apron she wore every single day. She looked like a diner waitress out of one of those shows from when I was a kid. “Your life isn’t what you once thought it would be. That’s the beauty of life.”
Yeah, beauty. More like an ugly truth.
